


Broken Boys Club

by MagpieWords



Series: Tony Stark Bingo 2018 - MagpieWords [4]
Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Friendship, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Tony Stark's Gauntlet is a Prosthetic, Trans Tony Stark, and when you friends laugh at the same weird jokes that's how you know your friends, let these sad boys be friends, some people joke about trauma? to cope??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-06-25 17:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15645930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieWords/pseuds/MagpieWords
Summary: It started as a joke. They were similar, in weird and broken ways, but they weren't friends. They didn't really know each other. Which made it weird that Rocket was standing on Tony Stark's porch at four in the morning with a barely standing Bucky Barnes.





	1. Four O'Clock

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tony Stark Bingo, square S1: Rocket Raccoon
> 
> Is it cheating if Rocket isn't a raccoon in this one? 
> 
> this idea hit me at 4 in the morning when i was dealing with my own physical health issues. it's dialogue heavy, maybe a little self indulgent, but it made me feel better and that's what writing is all about probably. 
> 
> if you don't like teens saying 'same' 'big mood' and joking about being broken to cope, this might not be the fic for you.

It started as a joke. Tony didn’t even want to be friends with Rick “Rocket” Conners. He was a jerk, his friends were all stoners, and he’s pretty sure that Gamora girl tried to beat up Thor one time. Which, not that Tony particularly liked Thor either, but Bruce was dating Thor now, so by the Science Bro Code, Tony didn’t have to be best friends with Thor or anything, but he had not like people who physically assaulted the guy.

James “Bucky” Barnes was even worse. Showed up halfway through the semester, stole Tony’s other best friend, and hardly said three words to anyone. And he kept staring at Tony. Like, okay, we’ve both got fake arms, cool or whatever, but the way Bucky stared was like there was something wrong with Tony. Which was true, there were a lot of things wrong with Tony, but Bucky didn’t need to, like, call that out with his weird staring face or whatever. Besides, if they really wanted to compare, Tony’s prosthetic only went up to his elbow and Bucky was missing his entire left arm. The guy couldn’t know about Tony’s robo-heart, therefore Tony was less of a percentage cyborg than Barnes was, therefore the guy had no right to stare.

Rocket didn’t stare, but being forced to interact with him every day was far from ideal. One science project turned into lab partners for the semester. They were a good team, almost as good as Tony and Rhodey, but Rhodey wasn’t taking physics this year, which was awful. So, as far as not-Rhodey lab partners went, Rocket was great. He was smart, had a bunch of good ideas, talked incessantly but also listened to Tony. Outside of class, they maybe met up twice to finish a project, and made a point not to see each other otherwise. They worked well together, but Tony wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends. They ran in completely different social circles. Not to say Tony Stark was an avid follower of sticking to the status quo, but he wasn’t exactly about to start a _High School Musical_ style revolution in order to expand his friend group. If his team didn’t feel the need to hang out with the galaxy stoners or whatever Rocket’s friends called themselves, then Tony didn’t see the need to make the effort.

Up until now, he thought Rocket had sort of agreed with that philosophy. Which made it weird that Rocket was standing on his porch at four in the morning at the tail end of Thanksgiving break.

“Just get down here!” He hissed over the phone before hanging up on Tony. Tony rolled out of bed, not bothering to change out his pajamas. Sneaking down the stairs of Stark Manor became easy after a decade or so of practice. Skip the third step, only stand on the right side of the seventh, and never ever touch the banister. He turned the knob of the front door completely before pushing it open, lock sliding soundlessly.

“Fuckin’ finally!” Rocket hollered and Tony winced.

“Why are you on my porch?” Blinking in the pale moonlight, Tony looked at the person Rocket was barely managing to hold up. “Why are you on my porch with James goddamn Barnes?”

“Nice to see you too, Stark.” Bucky sounded dead on his feet and somehow managed to look worse than he sounded.

“T, he ain’t doing great and you know more about his shit than I do.”

“Do I?” Tony crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly regretting not getting dressed. It was cold and he’s pretty sure neither of these two had seen him without his binder on, so that wasn’t great.

“I thought you and Rogers were dating?”

“What? No, who said that? And that has almost nothing to do with Barnes, seeing as the guy’s said more to me tonight than he’s said to literally anyone all semester.”

“Not true,” and now Bucky was slurring his words. Tony didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t seem to be getting better.

“What even happen to you two? You guys don’t even know each other.”

“Yeah we do,” Rocket shifted his weight, trying to keep Bucky upright. “He and Drax are skate buddies, mostly because they both know how to skateboard but also because Drax is trying to bone down with Thor --”

“Ew.”

“Agreed. But Thor is on the football team with Rogers, and since the season is over they’re both kinda bored before baseball starts in the spring. You know how athletes are, gotta keep moving or their dicks explode, I don’t know. So Bucky thought he’d bring ‘em along to the skate park under Highway 45 tonight. I don’t skate, but I’m staying with Drax for the holiday so I joined ‘em. The two fuckers didn’t even have boards, but I’d been building this sick custom set to give Drax for Hanukkah so I figured the fuckin’ menorah could light early --”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Um, excuse you, Stark, you ain’t Jewish so I think I know how my fuckin’ holiday works more than you do.”

“Um, excuse you, Rocket, I am fuckin’ Jewish and I know very much how Hanukkah works, thank you. Look, I’m not about to tell you you can’t give your friend a holiday gift early but don’t try to stuff a Christmas metaphor over --”

“The fuck. Why you ain’t never been to Hebrew club with us? We make challah once a month, it’s amazing.”

“I am the president of physics club, vice president of the LGBTQ alliance, and a chair on the scholastic bowl team. I have a literal full time engineering job, do I look like I have time for Hebrew club?"

“We do make good challah,” Bucky seemed to struggle before speaking, but at least he wasn’t slurring anymore.

“Shut up, Barnes. So what, you two are buddies now? Great, okay cool, whatever. I don’t care. Why are you on my porch at four in the fucking morning?” Tony didn’t notice his voice rising until it was too late, until it was breaking and the pitch was wrong and -- “oh fuck.” One of the lights inside the manor clicked on.

“Fuck, sorry T, didn’t mean to wake your folks, but --”

“No, Rocket, shut the fuck up and get out of here --” He tried to shoo them down the steps, but while Rocket was about Tony’s height, Bucky wasn’t so easily moved. The guy had a good six inches over Tony on a good day, and tonight, he was practically dead weight.

“Anthony?” Jarvis said, a hand on the door frame. “You really shouldn’t leave the door open.”

All the tension slid out of Tony. “Oh thank fuck. Hi Jarvis, sorry we woke you.”

“Language, young sir.”

“You call your dad by his first name? I don’t know shit about how normal parents work, but I’m pretty sure that ain’t normal.” Rocket was making a face and Tony barked out a laugh.

“If this was my dad, we’d be fu- screwed. This is Jarvis. Family friend.” That was an easier way to explain it, and it was closer to the truth anyway. Rocket and Bucky nodded; that made more sense than a single family living in this massive home by themselves.

“You boys will catch your death out there. Come inside. Keep your voices down and I’ll make hot chocolate.”

“Sweet!” Rocket hollered, half dragging Bucky inside. Bucky gave Jarvis a small but grateful nod, not having the energy for anything more.

“Is he alright?” Jarvis asked, closing the door behind Tony once they were both back inside.

“I’m honestly not sure.”

Jarvis gave a quiet hum, trying to seem like he was giving it careful thought, but Tony knew him better. The butler thought this whole situation was hilarious. “Go upstairs and get dressed,” he suggested. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Thanks J.”

Tony came back down in jeans and an old band t shirt with an extra large hoodie half zipped over it. Rocket was already halfway through a cup of Jarvis’s infamous hot chocolate, but Bucky hadn’t touched his. “Okay, now that you two are literally in my house, what’s going on.”

“Bucky’s broken.”

“Rude.”

“No, shut up Stark, like actually broken. Rogers nearly brained himself on the concrete and this motherfucker jumped off his board to save him.”

Jarvis cleared his throat and Rocket had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, Mr. Jarvis. This motherfreaker jumped off his board. Kept Rogers from dying, but landed funny on his arm.”

Tony nodded, frowning slightly. He didn’t take his eyes off Bucky’s arm, tilting his head this way and that to examine the damage, as he reached for the coffee pot to pour into his hot chocolate. With seamless motion, Jarvis took the coffee out of reach before Tony could modify his drink, but neither of them broke focus on what they were individually doing. Bucky would be fascinated by the practiced exchange if he wasn’t so busy trying to stay conscious through the cocktail of pain and blurriness.

After taking a sip of his non-expresso’d hot chocolate, Tony put his mug down and started to reach for Bucky’s arm, but he stopped himself before Bucky would even have the need to flinch away. “Can I?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky hated people touching his arm, especially a near stranger like Tony. But he couldn’t drive himself to get it fixed, not in this kind of pain. None of his friends had managed to pass their driver’s tests yet and his parents threatened to take his car the next time he got caught sneaking out. He wasn’t about to get caught by turning himself in. Besides, his doctor was a forty minute drive. Tony was just a ten minute walk away from the skate park.

Very slowly, Tony let his fingers touch the cold metal of Bucky’s arm. It was a similar design to his own prosthetic, but the model seemed older. “I’m just going to look for any surface damage, to see where the internal disconnect might be,” he explained as he moved along each segment. The plating had a few natural dents, nothing that would cause whatever issue Bucky was having. The pressure sensitivity seemed to be off, or at least not calibrated, in most places. “Can you feel any of this?”

“A little. It goes numb sometimes, that’s normal.”

“That’s not fucking normal. Who made this piece of crap?” Tony pressed at the elbow joint, the plates bending slightly but not giving way. Jarvis glanced up at the inappropriate language, but given the context, he decided to let it slide.

Rocket downed the last of his hot chocolate, glaring across the kitchen counter. “Don’t be a dick, T.”

“Hey, I’m broken too, I’m allowed to be a dick.”

Rocket seemed to bristle. “You didn’t talk to me like that when my spine glitched out last month.”

“Yeah well,” Tony walked around to the other side of Bucky, so he wouldn’t have to move the arm. “Your implant isn’t from the 1940s and made of, what is this, aluminum?”

“It’s a polycompound. Aluminum and titanium maybe? I don’t know, I’m not a science nerd like you guys.”

“You should know what your own arm is made of,” he grumbled, face morphing into a frown. “Is it okay if I move it? Like lift it up and see how the rotation is?” Bucky nodded, then Tony continued to talk as he explored. “Okay, I’m searching along the underside plates now, let me know if you feel anything. The rotary cuff seems to be intact, though you’ve got some unnecessary tissue damage that your doctor really should have --”

“Ow.”

Tony stopped, immediately taking his probing hand off Bucky’s arm. He lowered the arm then took his hand off Bucky’s wrist where he was holding it. Lower humerus, just where Tony suspected. But, with the level of dysfunction and disorientation Bucky was having, Tony expected more than a monotone reaction.

“Ow?”

“Yeah, it hurt.”

Tony arched a brow and reached to for his coffee mug. He nearly choked when he realized it was hot chocolate. “Jarv, I need coffee.”

“No you don’t.” He was reading yesterday’s newspaper, not even looking up to address his ward.

“How am I going fix Bucky’s arm at four in the morning if I’m not awake?” He distantly heard Rocket snicker as he bickered with Jarvis, but tried his best to ignore it.

“Well, you were awake enough to holler outside without a coat on.” Rocket actually laughed at that, struggling to hide it behind a cough. “Though, I suppose that means you’re awake enough to borrow your father’s lab.”

“Wait, really?”

“Key’s on the hook. Clean up after yourself, keep your voices down, and _do not_ tell him I let you do this.” Jarvis looked at him over the brim of the paper. “Understood?” The way his eyes crinkled at the corners spoke a smile hidden behind the print.

Tony’s grin was completely out in the open. “Understood! Thanks Jarvis!” He looked back at Bucky, grin replaced with something more serious. “Can you handle a set of stairs?”

“I think so.”

“Great, let’s go.” Tony grabbed the keys off the hook, leading them down into his father’s workshop. Howard Stark did most of his work at Stark Industries, but every so often, an idea would hit and his brilliant mind would demand it’s creation sooner than the time it took to drive to the office. Or, some projects just weren’t work related. Stark Industries sold everything from snipers to cellphones, but if Howard felt compelled to make rocket boots, that was his business.

Well, Tony had been the one to try and make rocket boots. Howard had thought the boots were ‘a waste of materials, time, and potential’ kicking his son out of the workspace and instructed Tony to convert the blueprint into an actual ballistic rocket. Which he did, hoping to be allowed back into the lab. Instead, Howard had taken the blueprints, handed his son a patent, and the door to the basement remained locked. That was three years ago, when Tony was just starting high school. He had enough tools of his own or through the school to work on a few of the robotics projects he wanted to, but it wasn’t anything near the equipment he’d need to repair Bucky’s arm without completely knocking the guy out from pain.

“I think our best bet would be to take your nervous connection offline.”

“That’s what my therapist said,” Bucky joked, though it took Tony and Rocket a second to realize it was a joke. Every word he spoke was deadpan, but maybe that’s what made it so funny. Soon they were cackling, sitting on the floor just to keep from falling over.

“Big fuckin’ mood,” Tony said, standing again to grab some tools. “But seriously, you okay if I do that?”

“Sure.”

“Do you know how to bring the connection back online after?” Rocket’s eyes were narrow, putting a hand between Tony and Bucky to pause this before it went too far. Tony would normally feel something bubble under his skin, anger coursing through him at anyone doubting his abilities. He was the smartest kid in school and a fuckin’ Stark. He couldn’t even legally buy a gun, but he’d designed over a dozen of the best selling weapons on the planet. He was young but already well on his way to earning the title an interview with Time had given him last year - The Merchant of Death.

Instead, light laughter bubbled up in him and he waved the fingers of his own prosthetic. “Well I’d ask you to give me hand, but I think I’m good.”

“Boo,” Rocket jeered, even as the room filled with laughter again. Tony talked through the panel on Bucky’s shoulder, told him each wire he was pulling out before he unplugged them. When the arm was completely offline, Tony started taking apart the panelling.

“It’s weird, right?” They’d fallen into a silence as Tony worked, and it was surprising when Bucky broke it.

“What?”

“When you go in for maintenance, seeing it totally dead like this is super weird right? It’s always been weird for me, but no one else really gets it. I thought, you know, since you…” He trailed off.

Tony made a quiet sound. “Kind of. I mean, I do my own maintenance so it’s probably a different experience. But, yeah, still weird.”

“The fuck, T, you do your own shit?”

“How’d you think I knew how to fix your back? Half of it is built on tech I made for my own arm.”

“What the fuck,” the more Bucky talked, the less unnerving his monotone was.

“I know right? I should sue, copyright infringement and all that.”

“No, I mean --”

“And oh fuck, I do not need to sue about your arm, Buck. This thing is trash!”

“I mean, same.” That earned another round of laughter, but quieter this time.

“You’re funny, Barnes.”

“I traded my arm for humor.”

More soft laughter, until the silence took over the lab again. Tony wasn’t sure how long he was working, but he usually listened to music when he was doing his own maintenance. Maybe that helped him forget about the weird. Did Bucky just go into some dudes office and have his limbs taken apart once every few months in total silence? “Rocket traded his bone density to learn how to speak Groot.”

“Not true!” Rocket was half sprawled in Bucky’s lab now, the three of them sitting on the floor. “I traded it for good looks.”

“Bad deal, my dude.” Bucky spared him a glance down and Tony bit his lip. He couldn’t laugh right now, this one wire was very delicate…

“Got it,” he whispered.

“Tony traded his hand for a date with Pepper Potts.”

“Don’t need two hands when you got a mouth like mine.” He gave a filthy grin and Rocket blanched.

“Gross.”

“You went out with Pepper?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, but we’re better as friends.” Tony tried to fight down a horribly fond grin, could feel Bucky and Rocket staring, could feel a blush starting to tint his cheeks. He’d been in love with Pepper, still was, but in a different way now. He was pretty sure this hoodie was actually hers at one point. Not like she minded Tony stealing her clothes, since all the skirts she owned now used to belong to Tony.

“Stevie and I are kinda like that, but like, I still sort of want to kiss his stupid face, ya know?” Bucky admitted, still monotone, but softer now.

“He does have a kissable face,” Tony admitted. Everyone knew about him and Pepper and everyone _definitely_ knew about his massive crush on Steve.

“And a stupid face,” Rocket chimed in. “Are he and Sam still a thing?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed. “But Steve’s happy and Sam is almost tolerable so it’s whatever.”

“Sam’s likeable.”

“Eh,” Bucky gave a half shrug.

“Okay, I think I got it,” Tony spoke up, fusing the last of the wires together. “Buck, I’m going to leave the panel open, but start to online your connection to make sure it still holds. Is that going to be okay?”

“Sure.”

“No, not sure. I’m not your doctor and even if I was I don’t know your arm better than you. Even if I fucking made it, I’m not wearing it. You know it best. Is that okay?” Whatever light mood had taken over the lab quickly turned somber as Tony pinned Bucky with his gaze. Rocket grimaced at the intense eye contact - Tony had tried to pull a similar stunt on him when they were working on his spine, which had lead to a shouting match before Rocket confessed that eye contact just wasn’t something he was good at. Tony didn’t ask why, just accepted it, which was a nice change of pace, but then they didn’t talk for two weeks outside of class so Rocket just assumed whatever bond they had formed wasn’t anything important.

Then he was dragging a total stranger to Tony’s house and they’d spent the past four hours in a basement together. So, Rocket figured that meant something.

“It’s weird, but it shouldn’t hurt. I’ll let you know if it does.” Bucky wasn’t used to this much talking when his arm was being worked on, either from the person performing the maintenance or from himself. He didn’t dislike it, but it was still new and strange.

“You better,” Tony grumbled. “And you better let me make you a new arm. This network is a nightmare.”

Bucky gave a dark laugh, “yeah it does make a frequent appearance in my nightmares.”

Rocket cackled, the kind of laughter that could have been mistaken for sobbing. Tony bit back a similar desperate need to laugh. “Stop it, I can’t let my hands shake while I do this.”

“Literally me everyday,” Rocket said through gasping breaths.

“Big mood.”

And Tony had to drop his tools because hearing that come out of a gruff, completely emotionless half-cyborg was too much. “You two are the worst,” he managed to say as he went back to work.

“Join the club.”

“I told you I don’t have time for Hebrew Club, Rocket.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, you dick.”

Tony just rolled his eyes, focusing on the final touches to reconnect Bucky’s arm. “Okay, can you feel this?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No.” Bucky’s eyes went wide, staring at his arm like it wasn’t his. “Wait, what. How?”

“Because I’m good at what I do.”

“No seriously,” Rocket seemed to have ignored Bucky’s big moment of freedom from chronic pain. “We should have a club. Like the three of us.”

“And the next time it’s four in the morning you can come over for hot chocolate again.” Tony meant to say it like a joke, meant to brush off the idea of letting two people just as broken as he was into his life. Yeah, he had Rhodey and Bruce and Pepper and the rest of his team. They had their strife but Bucky was right. There was something about having your arm laying with open circuits on a table, or your back being exposed in unimaginable ways, or your heart literally being ripped out of your chest, that couldn’t be explained to people who didn’t get it.

“Yeah,” Rocket said, softer than Tony had ever heard him speak. “That’d be cool.”

The lab was silent again for a few minutes, finally interrupted by the solid snap of Bucky’s arm being closed. “I think you’re good.”

Bucky lifted the arm, flexed his fingers and rotated the shoulder cuff. “Huh, yeah I think I am too.”

The three of them looked at each other, silent again, before heading up the stairs. The sun had come up but the house was still asleep. Jarvis had left a note in the kitchen, declaring scones were in the microwave for “The Boys.”

“Guess that’s us,” Tony grinned down at the note, pocketing it.

“Broken boys club,” Bucky said, opening the microwave and bringing the plate of baked goods closer. They ate in silence then parted ways before the sun got too high in the sky.


	2. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I don’t know how to explain this to you, but Saturday over break and Thursday before I have a calculus exam aren’t exactly-- oh shit, Rocket, what happened?”_
> 
> This time a prosthetic goes off line from something a little more serious than a late night skateboarding accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*Strolls in three months late with starbucks*_
> 
> Hi! Back by popular demand, I guess! Seriously, all your kind comments have been really motivational in getting this finished, edited, and posted. This chapter is twice as long as the last one! Features text chats, the vague mention of academics, several characters we all know and love, teen partying (loud trashy music included), nightmares, and a very vague concept of surgery in a kitchen. Let me know what you think!

School resumed with the pointless first two weeks of December. Classes were either swamped with projects and tests to study for, or were led by teachers just as eager to be back on vacation, filling the hours with movies that could almost be considered relevant to the coursework, if you squinted. All in all, nothing had changed too drastically after that strange night at Stark Manor. Tony still didn’t eat lunch with Steve and Bucky. Rocket spent most of his time with the Guardians of the whatever. Aside from a few shared classes and academically forced interactions, the three boys didn’t make an effort to keep in touch. None of their friends had any idea they knew each other, let alone that something had happened between them.

Then suddenly, there was the groupchat. It pinged into existence on Tony’s phone in the middle of calculous on an otherwise typical Friday.

[rocket: sup. who has plans tonight?]

Tony stared at the text without a clue how to respond. An ellipse bobbled as another member of this group chat replied.

[bucky: hanging with u i guess?

rocket: fuck yeah! quill’s throwing a party

Rocket changed the name of the group to Broken Boys Club

rocket: and i think i miss you losers?

Bucky changed the name of the group to BBC.]

Bucky followed the name change with a collection of different laughing emojis. Rocket sent a gif and the two of them were going back and forth. Tony still had no clue how to respond, even if he was smiling at the screen now, tapping the edge of the glass. He didn’t have any plans tonight, not really. Howard probably wouldn’t be home until late, so he might be able to convince Jarvis to let him into the lab. Or he still had a few levels to finish in the game he bought last month. But none of those theoretical things were ‘plans’. Parties weren’t really Tony’s thing- the drinking and the music was great, the people usually weren’t. However, Peter Quill was known for pretty amazing DJing, so that was a point in favor of going.

“Stark!” Mr. Grayson’s voice cut through the calculous class. Half the kids around Tony jumped and it took a considerable amount of energy not to drop his phone as he scrambled to hide it, hands suddenly clumsy. “If my class isn’t interesting enough for you, perhaps you’d like to teach it yourself?”

A black Expo marker was shoved in his face and Tony took it. With a huff, he pushed himself up from his desk and made his way to the front of the room, slouching further into his hoodie and mumbling through the explanation of the equations on the board.

He didn’t have the nerve to even think about his phone for the rest of the class, once Mr. Grayson took the marker and went back to droning on about deveritives. The rest of the class scrambled out into the hall once the bell rang, Tony not far behind, finally able to see the avalanche of notifications from the groupchat.

“BBC, huh?” Rhodey was suddenly next to him, reading over his shoulder. Tony squeaked, biting his lip even though the startled sound had already escaped. He swung out, back of his hand connecting with Rhodey’s shoulder. Rhodey just laughed. “So you in a Doctor Who club or what?”

“Nah, it’s just some dumb joke.” Tony didn’t look up, still skimming through the messages and seemingly endless gifs. “Party at Quill’s tonight, you wanna go?” He could go on his own, or go with Bucky and Rocket maybe. He didn’t need Rhodey to go with him. It was just… nicer if Rhodey was there to deal with the big crowds. He was a good six inches taller than Tony, it was just a protocol of practicality that they stick together.

“Sure,” Rhodey didn’t think twice about his answer. He pulled Tony into a side hug, which Tony continued to stare at his phone through even if he leaned into the touch, before turning left while Tony went right.

tony: im bringing rhodey.

The text was met with an onslaught of accusations about plus-ones and potential narcs. There were more weird gifs and then Rocket was asking what kind of music they liked. Tony could hardly read half them before sliding his phone into his pocket and trying to remember how to conjugate Latin.

“No one even speaks that language!” He griped as he and Rhodey walked outside together, catching up at the end of the day.

“Then why’d you sign up for it?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know! Ugh whatever, it’s so goddamn cold.” Tony tried to borrow further into his hoodie. He bumped shoulders with Rhodey, who didn’t hesitate to put his arm around Tony. The three blocks to Rhodey’s house felt like light years. Tony’s hands blistered in the wind as he tried to read through the backlog of texts. Didn’t Rocket and Bucky have class? When did they send all this? 

[tony: i tricked rhodey into dding. text me ur addresses and we’ll pick u up at seven.

rocket: why you typing out numbers??

tony: dont wanna change the keyboard. its faster.

rocket: no it isnt???]

Bucky sent a beer emoji, quickly followed by his own address. He wasn’t too far from Rhodey’s house. Rocket didn’t respond for another half hour. Tony was lounging upside down on Rhodey’s couch while they waited for the vintage Nintendo 64 to boot up, phone inches from the floor as he sent a large question mark to the groupchat. When there wasn’t a response to that, he sent the raccoon emoji.

[rocket: dont be a dick

rocket: im already at quills.]

Tony fired off the ‘ok’ sign and tossed his phone into the corner of the couch. He nearly fell off, trying to rotate back around to sit up as Rhodey handed him a controller. They had a time to goof off and figure out dinner before the the party would start. Mrs. Rhodes was working late tonight, but unlike Tony, James Rhodes knew how to cook. If making box macaroni and cheese counted as cooking, which in Tony’s opinion, it absolutely did.

A few hours later, they sat outside Bucky’s house, watching a soft flurry of snow fall across the dashboard. Bucky had texted a scrambled apology- something with his sisters and his mom and he was running late, but that was fine. Tony didn’t mind waiting as long as Rhodey kept the heat on.

“So,” Rhodey’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel. “This guy, he’s like. Are you and he…?”

“Oh fuck no,” Tony gagged once he figured out what Rhodey was asking. “No, oh my god, no. I fixed his arm one time now we’re sort of friends. It’s whatever.”

“You know you’re still allowed to like guys, right?”

Tony rolled his eyes hard enough to feel them strain, flopping over to lean on Rhodey’s shoulder across the center console of the car. “James. That is not what this is about. That is never what it’s about.”

“I know, but still.”

“Sap.” Tony sat up again, crossing his legs in the tiny space of the front seat. “I fixed Bucky’s arm and now we’re kind of friends with Rocket.”

“Raccoon kid is involved with this?”

“I guess? I don’t even know.” Tony gave into a laugh neither of them couldn’t quite understand. “Also, he hates that nickname, so don’t like-”

“Got it. But that doesn’t really explain,” he struggled to figure out what exactly was weird about this situation. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t normal, yet Rhodey couldn’t figure out why. The snow was starting to pile on the windshield. “You fix some kid’s arm and now he’s coming to my car looking like murder?”

Tony looked up from the half drafted text asking how long Bucky was going to be. Bucky apparently wasn’t going to be much longer, heavy boots crossing through the snow, a scowl on his face half covered by a thick black scarf. He opened the back door of Rhodey’s ancient sedan, trying to stomp off the snow before getting in.

“I take it you’re not a fan of winter,” Rhodey said in place of a greeting.

“Not exactly,” Bucky grumbled, not moving his scarf. It was far from the first snowfall of the season, but normally when it snowed, he got home and stayed home. Bucky wasn’t really sure this party was worth it.

Peter Quill lived half way across town. The drive was long, awkwardly silent as Tony skipped through Rhodey’s CD collection. He’d let each song play for a few seconds, before making a face and going to the next one.

“Wait,” Bucky said at the start of one song, Tony’s hand hovering over the skip button. “Is this what I think it is?” What sounded like 2000s softpop was suddenly mixed in with 70s grunge rock lyrics. “It is! How did you get this song on CD?”

“Noooo,” Tony whined, “don’t encourage his shitty taste in music.”

Rhodey laughed as they turned down Quill’s street. “Thanks Barnes. It’s my own playlist, bunch of stuff I downloaded. I’d make you one but _someone_ upgraded my computer without asking me so I don’t have a disc drive anymore.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony huffed, getting out of the car. Rhodey had parked a few houses down, since cars were already spilling out of Quill’s driveway. Tony’s phone vibrated, and as they walked closer to the house, the music that was slowly becoming louder changed to another mashup like the one in the car. Whipping out his phone, Tony glared at the groupchat. “Fuck you, Barnes.”

“Lemme see,” Rhodey leaned over, reading that Bucky had sent Rocket the soundcloud link to the mashup artist, and burst out laughing. “Bucky, you are welcome in my car any time.”

Bucky gave a small smile, half hidden in his scarf, as the three of them trudged through the snow. “Thanks.” Peter’s house wasn’t much different than Bucky’s, in that way suburban houses are all copies from three or four base models. The yard was bigger, the porch was smaller, and the back of the house was nestled in some woods instead of fence to fence with the neighbors, but the door was the same. They knocked, though with the music booming from inside, Tony doubted they’d be heard.

“Are his parents out of town?” Tony asked, shooting a suspicious look at the string lights decorating every awning and pillar on the house. Most of them seemed seasonally appropriate, but some had jack-o-lanterns and others had hearts or little flags, which suggested either Peter decorated or these lights didn’t come down after New Years.

“Naw, I think the Quills are just like that,” Bucky muttered into his scarf, knocking on the door again. They waited for a few moments, Tony bounced from foot to foot to keep the cold at bay, before Bucky took out his phone. The groupchat pinged again and suddenly Rocket was opening the door. A blast of a _Wonderwall_ parody felt loud enough to push the three of them backwards.

“Hey! ‘Bout time you got here!” Rocket cackled, as though he’d said a hilarious joke, and led them inside. The party was mostly in the back of the house, a mass of dancing teenagers spilled between the kitchen and an open door to a screened in patio. Peter saw them enter, waving from a table with his laptop, which Rocket laughed through explaining that it was a DJ booth.

“Fuck, Rhodes I owe you my life for that music request. What can I get you? There’s vodka, rum, I think someone has whiskey, there’s like fourteen types of chips, I’ve got some weed if you want, Gamora said something about doing shots in like ten minutes.” Rocket probably would have kept going, but shots were apparently happening now and that was distraction enough.

“Hey, T?” Rhodey shouted over the music as Tony didn’t hesitate before joining the lineup for shots. “Go easy, okay?”

“Yeah yeah, you gonna try to have fun?”

Rhodey shrugged. The music still roared, but lowered enough that everyone could hear Gamora counting down. Most people grabbed a shot from the overspilling glasses poured on the kitchen counter, drinking together and cheering. The night faded into dancing and laughing and eating half frosted cupcakes while sitting on the kitchen counter. Honestly, Tony wasn’t sure how he managed to jump up there, but it was great and that’s all that mattered.

The crowd had been mostly manageable, the majority of them returning to the screened in porch after the masses gathered for shots. As the evening was growing later, the music refused to slow but the night air became sharper. Peter ushered the last of the party-goeres fully into the kitchen before closing the sliding glass door. The room was warm near instantly, if only from the crowd of bodies. A few groups spilled over into what appeared to be a dining room with a table covered in office papers, but it was still way too many people.

Tony wasn’t sure when he lost track of the people he arrived with, but that was fine. Mostly. Another round of shots was called and the swarm of people was suddenly too much. Grabbing a red cup, still full of whatever, Tony made a retreat into the open door leading down to the basement.

The music still thumped through the walls of the house, but it was muted down here. The basement split in two rooms, a large living room with unused exercise equipment and a collection of mismatched couches, and, immediately to the left of the stairs, a door. Which was open.

Tony poked his head inside, finding Bucky halfway consumed by an oversized bean bag chair and Rocket sprawled out on an unmade bed. Rocket picked his head up enough to see who it was, before giggling and lying back down. “About damn time, T. We texted you like an hour ago.”

“Huh?” Tony hadn’t even felt his phone go off. He dug in the pockets of his hoodie and, true to what Rocket said, there were a couple dozen notifications from the groupchat. “Oh.”

“Want some?” Bucky didn’t lift his head, but he did lift his arm, holding a blunt between his metal fingers.

“Nah,” Tony let his legs fold under him, sitting cross legged on the plush carpet. He didn’t really have the energy to explain why he didn’t smoke.

“Hugs not drugs, cool cool cool,” Rocket said and Tony rolled his eyes as he took a long sip. Huh, whiskey lemonade was his mystery drink. Not bad. “I don’t drink,” Rocket rambled on. It seemed like he was trying to say something important, but all that came out was, “so like, yeah. I get it.”

“Thaaat’s why you didn’t join for shots,” Bucky said, as though all the questions in the world had been answered.

“Yeah, shit fucks with my back.”

Bucky laughed, a strangely bubbly sound coming from someone who was still wearing his heavy combat boots. “You sound like an old man.”

“Broken Old Men’s Club. I’m changing the group chat name.”

“Nooo,” Tony whined. “I like it as it is.”

“Why are you on the floor?”

“Why are you on Quill’s bed?”

Rocket sat up fully. The movement wasn’t fast, but the mood of the room changed abruptly. “Well, it’s kinda mine.”

“That would explain the suitcase,” Bucky didn’t seem surprised, but Tony suddenly found himself staring at Rocket, curious.

“I, uh. Well, it’s still kinda Peter’s too. I sort of, um, every few weeks I- I, um. Well, the Guardians, we- We got this system? And I stay at everyone’s house on a sort of rotation.”

“Ohmygossssh,” Bucky dragged out the word, voice pitching up without him meaning for it to. “That’s so nice? Your friends are so nice.”

Tony felt himself smile. He didn’t really know what to say but he nodded, agreeing. Rocket let out a bubble of laughter, sounding more sober than he had all evening.

“Yeah, they’re a good group. I stay with Peter the most, his folks are really chill. When I first, uh, the first time I was here, they had me up in the guest room? But that, I mean, it was fine, but Peter said it was cool if we slept over down here and, yeah.”

“I’m going to cry.”

“I told you not to get crossfaded, Barnes.”

“I’m fine, shut up, I’m fine.”

Rocket rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the whole thing works out pretty great. Except the Quills are leaving for winter break early. Like, tomorrow early. Some Ravager tradition that I’m, like, pretty sure Peter’s stepdad made up. They think I’m going to Groot’s but some shit just went down with his family so like... And I’m already gonna be with Gamora and Nebula for the actual break, and I was _just_ at Drax’s house.” Rocket scrubbed his hands over his face, dragging out his features as he sighed. “I really don’t want to ask that Jeff Goldblum looking motherfucker in my calc class, but his door’s never locked so I think maybe I don’t have to ask.”

Tony knew it wasn’t funny but he felt himself laugh anyway. “You can’t break into someone’s house for a week.”

“Not with that attitude you can’t.”

“Stay with me.” Bucky sat up very quickly, enough momentum that he almost pitched forward out of the bean bag chair. “Let me text my mom.”

“Bucky, I can’t--”

“No, shut up, I’m already doing it.” He fumbled with his phone, struggled to type coherently, but he was able to do it.

“If she--”

The sharp bark of Rocket’s laugh stopped Tony before he got any more words out. “Shit, sorry T. Seriously, that’s nice and all. Really. But I would not last five minutes in your house, secretly breaking in or not. I do not know how you live there it.”

Tony gave a small laugh, but then it sort of wouldn’t stop until he was sprawled out on the floor. “Yeah, neither do I.”

“She said yes!” Bucky cheered, accidentally tossing his phone in excitement. He reached to pick it up and ended up on the floor with Tony. “You wanna come back to my place when Rhodey drops us off?”

“Holy fuck. Uh, sure, um. Wow?”

“Yeah, wait, how’d you do that?” Tony pushed himself up to lean on his elbows. “Weren’t you guys like fighting before you left?”

“Well, kinda. She was dealing with my little sister and then my _other_ little sister started joining in and then she tried to rope me in and I was like, nopeing the fuck out of there. Just typical family shit.”

“Can’t relate.”

“Same.” Rocket reached down, giving Tony a high five. Bucky tried to explain, which led to another topic and then another, and somehow they were debating the best pizza toppings when Tony’s phone buzzed rapidly.

“Jeez, mister popular, how many people are texting you?” Bucky reached for Tony’s phone, but Tony was faster.

“It’s not a text, it’s-- Rhodey! Honeybear! Hiya, havin’ fun?” He started to reply with something, but Tony didn’t process it. “Wait wait, first, more important. Lemme put you on speaker.” He held the phone out, in the middle of the three boys sprawled across Peter and Rocket’s room. “Rhodey. James Rhodes, the most smartest, most honorable-ist, prettiest person I know.”

“Get on with it, Tony.”

“Pineapple on pizza. Thoughts?” The room was still, waiting with baited breath through the muted sound of _Call Me Maybe_ coming through the phone, just a half second delayed from the echoing of the rest of the house.

“Not valid,” Rhodey finally said.

“Oooh!” Tony tossed the phone somewhere else on the carpet, pushing at Rocket. Bucky hollered with him. Rocket tried to shout over the noise, tried to defend Hawaiian pizza, when the music upstairs suddenly stopped.

“Uh, hey party people! It’s DJ Starlord, thanks for coming out. I’ve got one last song for you guys then unfortunately casa de Quill be closed for the night.” There weren’t many people left so late in the evening, but those that remained booed. The boys in the basement joined in, not caring that they wouldn’t be heard upstairs, before laughing and falling on top of each other again. “Oh, and an announcement that one James Rhodes would like me to read. It’s addressed to,” Peter held the microphone away from his mouth, but his snort of laughter still came through. “It’s addressed to ‘kids lost in the mall’, and the message is ‘goodbye you little shits.’” More laughter before Peter took a deep breath. “Okay, thanks for that. Here’s your last song of the night!”

_Closing Time_ shook the walls of the house, bass boosted, with various remaining partiers singing along. Bucky started singing too, before Tony whacked him in the shoulder.

“Ow, watch my fuckin’ arm.”

“Shit sorry. But I think that announcement meme was for us.”

“Oh shit,” Rocket pushed off the other two boys, scrambling to throw the last of his things into his backpack. He found Tony’s phone across the room and tossed it to him. There was no hope of Tony catching it, but at least it couldn’t crack on the carpet.

The trio clamored up the stairs, nearly crashing into Rhodey. He looked exhausted, but in the fond way Tony had come to understand as probably his default setting. He gave a small laugh. “Hi Rocket.”

“Hey!” Rocket said, a little too loud for the quieting room. He tried to lean on the handle of his suitcase, missed, and nearly feel over before Bucky caught him.

“He need a ride?” Rhodey asked Tony, who was probably the most coherent of the three.

“Yeah. But he’s going to Buck’s.”

“Nicknames on the nickname. Should I be jealous?” Rhodey chuckled and started towards the door, the rest of the group following.

“No one could ever come close to what we have, platypus.”

“Thanks Quill!” Rocket shouted back as they left the door, suitcase held as high as he could out of the snow. Bucky was easily taller than both Rhodey and Tony, had no need to trot to keep up with them as they took the lead, but it felt like the right thing to do. He was practically bouncing across the snow, scarf trailing behind.

Tony wasn’t sure how the three of them survived to the car, but they did. Wasn’t really sure how he woke up the next morning without a hangover, but he did. He rolled back over, content to sleep the rest of Saturday away, when his phone buzzed loudly on his nightstand. There was a few texts from Rhodey; one of which explained that the lack of hangover was due to Rhodey and Jarvis teaming up to get him to drink some water last night. Pepper asked if he was free this weekend, Bruce asked if Tony was ever going to return that comic book he borrowed, Thor asked if Tony knew what happened to Loki at the party. The questions could be all answered with ‘no’, but Tony left the other texts on read as his attention was stolen by the groupchat. Bucky and Rocket had flooded it with photos this morning, demanding Tony join them.

rocket: mrs barnes makes pancakes imbued with the magic of gods

The weekend past like that, his phone a joyful and endless source of entertainment as Tony sat through lessons on copyright law and discussions on product design with Howard. Even when Monday came, the texting didn’t stop. It evolved.

[tony sent a photo

bucky: not fair! i wanna have lunch with you guys! :(((

rocket: skip class!

bucky: no??]

There were texts outside the groupchat.

[tony: hey, so rocket doesn’t really give a fuck about it, but youre into game of thrones, right?]

[bucky sent a photo

bucky: eyeliner like that?

rocket: yeah. is that chill?

bucky: yeah [racoon emoji]

rocket: [thumbs down emoji] ]

[rocket: yo, is bucky acting weird?

tony: idk?? i dont really see him during the day?

rocket: ok cuz he’s sort of not talking? idk whats up but i thought we could fill his locker with skittles or something during lunch.

tony: better idea.]

[bucky sent a photo to BBC

bucky: guys!

bucky: what. the. fuck. am i supposed to do with these balloooons????]

There was an avalanche of heart emojis and crying faces. Running half a mile through the snow to the party shop suddenly felt like a reasonable way to spend lunch. It suddenly felt like they had been talking to each other like this for lifetimes instead of just half the week before winter break. It was simple things, but the kind of things friendships were built on: can I borrow your phone charger, did you see that one movie, do you still think this person is hot? A casual mention of hanging out for New Years became plans, which somehow became a party with half the school invited. Jokes about Chinese food on Christmas Day turned into wild dreams of flying around the world, which somehow became an intense discussion on what exactly Tony’s dad did for a living and then what the three of them wanted to do with the rest of their lives.

[bucky: hey. rocket’s been kind of dick today. did something happen?]

It was the last hour of classes on Thursday. Even the teachers were ready for a break at this point. Dr. Isley had stopped giving anything close to biology lessons on Tuesday, deciding they could use the hour to work on their research papers due after the holidays. The class had assumed ‘work on research papers’ was code for ‘do whatever you want as long as you’re quiet’. Tony’s laptop was out, the text message showing up on the side of his screen.

[tony: im pretty sure that’s just his face.

bucky: no, like. this is More.

tony: huh.

tony: lunch seemed fine? he was kinda distracted in class but like??? idk?

bucky: kay.]

The day ends without any more messages and Tony made his way out of the east building towards the parking lot. The fact that Howard wouldn’t let him get his driver’s license was annoying year-round, but especially in winter. All the lessons from Jarvis still didn’t save him from having to shiver and wait to be picked up after school.

[bucky: watch out]

Tony read the quickly shot of text just seconds before Rocket came barreling into him. Neither of them fell over, but it had been close.

“Fuck! I hate this!” Rocket was practically vibrating with energy, scowling like nothing Tony had ever seen.

“Yeah, same.” Tony huddled further into his hoodie.

“No, you idiot, I don’t give a shit about the weather.” Rocket’s backpack was only on one shoulder, swinging wildly as he spoke with his hands. Bucky wasn’t far behind, expression muted but clearly irritated. “It’s this! School! Fuckin all these hours wasted learning nothing and I don’t need it! I literally do not need to be here.”

“I mean, same.”

“No, shut up, boy genius.” Rocket shoved him a little too hard to be their usual roughhousing and Tony skidded in the snow. “I don’t wanna skip grades or go to Harvard or whatever! I just wanna be done. I wanna, like, do other shit!”

It was hard for Tony to really imagine ‘other shit’. His life was already planned out, but he was mostly okay with following the career laid out for him. It definitely made things simpler.

“Look,” Bucky grumbled, busy fishing out his scarf from his backpack. “I get it. I don’t need all this shit either, but you can’t--”

“No, I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna drop out,” Rocket snapped. “I’m gonna do it.”

“Rocket,” Bucky sighed. He tried to find something else to say, but nothing was found. He looked at Tony.

“Um, maybe don’t? Oh shit, Jarvis is here, byeeee.” He felt a little bad, leaving Bucky to deal with this for probably the fourteenth time in as many hours, but Tony was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to help much anyway.

Bucky had long since given up on arguing with Rocket. All in all, it seemed like Rocket didn’t really want to talk with him, just at him. That was the entire trip home, but as they took off their boots, Rocket fell silent. He didn’t talk much at dinner, just the basic pleasantries, but the Barnes family was used to that. Bucky didn’t have enough energy for conversation everyday, and the table was never silent with so many kids. One of his sisters always had something to talk about. Rocket went to the guest room pretty immediately after dinner and the rest of the evening was quiet.

Hours later, the scream that rang out was so faint and so short lived, Bucky almost wasn’t sure he heard it. He sat up suddenly, blanket pooled around his waist and his ears ringing from the contrasting silence. He glanced at the clock, looked away, then stared at the numbers again. They didn’t change or distort, so he wasn’t dreaming. Both times he looked, it was just past midnight.

Slowly, he slipped out of bed and out of his room. He moved down the hall, knowing which parts of the floor creaked and how to avoid them. Each door he opened was nearly silent, and each sister in each bedroom was equally silent, still sound asleep. He glanced down to the other end of the hall, frowning slightly, before moving towards the final door.

The guest room door creaked a little; the Barnes family didn’t usually have guests. The lights were off, but Bucky heard the occupant of the room suck in a breath.

“Rocket?” He whispered. Eyes adjusting to the moonlight drifting in through the curtains, he saw Rocket sitting in the middle of a tangle of blankets, knees pulled up to his chest. “You, uh, okay?”

Rocket tried to nod, the motion jerky, and he grimaced.

“That… doesn’t seem okay? Can I come in?”

Rocket frowned, eyes narrowing with the look he’d been wearing all day and Bucky was already too tired for another fight. Instead, when Rocket tried to open his mouth, only a strange, strangled sound came out of his clenched teeth before it petered off off into a whine. He gave that same short nod and Bucky crossed into the room, closing the squeaky door behind him.

“Um.” The closer he got, the more he could see. Rocket’s whole face looked hollow, dark circles under his eyes shimmered in the moonlight. Tears were still streaking down his cheeks, even as he glared. Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and that slight dip in the mattress seemed to shake Rocket unsteady. “Not gonna lie, this looks rough, buddy.”

Rocket’s eyes seemed to soften and his face twitched like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite get there.

“Okay, uh, this happens to me too sometimes, so like. Yes or no questions?”

Rocket groaned, but nodded.

“Shit, this would be so much easier if you could sign.” Before Bucky finished, Rocket’s hands were already moving. He didn’t really let go from the way he was hugging his knees, but it was enough to get the message across.

“ _You sign?_ ” He asked.

“Oh fu-” Bucky quickly dropped his voice back to a whisper, “fuck yeah! Yeah, mom took me to therapy after I got my arm cuz there were just, like, days were words were just, like, nope. My sisters think it’s like a secret language, which it kind of is.” The last of his energy slipped away as Rocket seemed to get tenser. “Uh, anyway, you-- can I? Um.”

“ _I’m fine._ ”

“Uh, no you are definitely not.”

Whatever curse Rocket tried to sign was lost with the way his arms struggled to move. He whined through his teeth again before fingerspelling, “ _Stark._ ”

“Did he do something?”

Rocket shook his fist instead of his head, an easier motion, and followed with “ _phone._ ”

Whatever look of murder had surged across Bucky’s face was gone in an instant. “Oh thank fuck, okay yeah. Wait, do you need - is your back--?”

Rocket started to nod, grimaced again, then nodded with his hand in a sharp motin.

“Fuck fuck fuck, okay, stay here.”

Rocket signed something that Bucky was only half able to catch, something sarcastic, but Bucky was getting off the bed and hurrying back down the hall to his own room. Grabbing his phone, he already sent off three texts by the time he walked back into Rocket’s room. He sat back down on the bed, maybe not carefully enough because Rocket was stringing together another colorful array of half formed obscenities.

“Sorry,” Bucky whispered, focusing on his phone again and sending off a few more texts that mostly just consisted of variations on Tony’s name.

[tony: what????

bucky: rocket’s fucked up can we come over?

bucky: ???

bucky: ??????

tony: fuck stop

tony: yes but stop texting me]

“Okay cool, Tony’s good. You, uh. How? To my car?” Bucky made a half aborted motion to pick Rocket up. He was a good deal smaller, it probably would be easy, but Rocket waved him off. He clenched his teeth, a soft but drawn out sound of pain coming through, crescendoing as he seemed to force his body to uncurl. It felt like hours, but finally he was standing.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered, but went back out into the hall. “Can you handle the stairs?”

Rocket gave another strained nod. He seemed less overwhelmed by the pain now, but his jaw stayed locked in a grimace. Bucky started his car, firing off a quick text to his mom and hoping she’d forgive him for sneaking out again. But it wasn’t really sneaking out if he told her about it, right? He drove as fast as the minivan could handle through the snow, until they pulled into the long drive of Stark Manor. The front light was already on and the door opened before Bucky could even knock.

“I don’t know how to explain this to you, but Saturday over break and Thursday before I have a calculus exam aren’t exactly-- oh shit, Rocket, what happened?”

Whatever he tried to sign was unclear, his arms now refusing to cooperate. He let out a frustrated huff and tried to move inside. Tony sidestepped, holding the door open. “Uh, take a seat in the kitchen, let me grab my tools.”

“Not the lab?” Bucky asked, keeping his eyes on Rocket.

“I didn’t want to wake Jarvis. I mean, I can but, uh, Rocket’s tech is a lot better than yours, so this won't be like, surgery. Probably.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes but didn’t say more as he followed Rocket into the kitchen. They didn’t hear much, quiet footfalls up and down the stairs, before Tony was silently placing a heavy looking toolbox on the counter. Rocket was already sitting backwards on one of the chairs at the breakfast bar, knuckles white on the metal backing as he leaned forward.

“Perfect. Okay, how much do you like this shirt?” If Rocket couldn’t lift his arms to sign a basic _fuck you_ , Tony doubted he’d be able to get his shirt off. He glanced over Rocket’s shoulder, getting a quick finger sign for “ _go for it_ ” before breaking out the scissors.

“Um.” Bucky meant to say something more but he wasn’t really sure what.

“You don’t gotta be here for this if you don’t want to, Bucky.” Tony’s voice was soft, but he didn’t have time to look at Bucky. “Rocket, I’m not gonna poke into anything too much, just running diagnostics.” The lower nodes on Rocket’s exposed spinal support seemed to be okay. Tony’s fingertips and the edge of his metal forceps traced up the unit, hoping the problem was lower down. He really didn’t want to work on something so close to Rocket’s brain in the middle of the kitchen when he was still half asleep. “Let me know if anything pings bad, okay?”

“I’ll. Uh.” Bucky didn’t want to leave, exactly, but watching this was so much stranger than watching his own arm. Sure, his prosthetic was plugged into his nervous system, but this spinal column seemed like it _was_ Rocket’s nervous system. He trusted Tony, after everything over the past few days and especially after getting his arm repaired. More importantly, Rocket trusted Tony. But it still felt too tense to watch. Would Tony have to take Rocket offline? Bucky’s arm going limp was one thing, but watching Rocket’s entire body-- He shuddered, wishing his brain could stop bombarding him with the vivid imagery.

“Coffee, right?” He concluded and crossed around the island in the center of the kitchen. Now he saw Rocket’s face, and the edge of Tony’s, still intensely focused on his work, but he couldn’t see the spinal unit at all. That was easier.

The Stark Manor kitchen had more gadgets than Bucky even knew existed, but at least the coffee maker seemed straight forward. “Second pantry, third shelf.” Tony said, not even looking up at him. Bucky followed the instructions, finding a bag of coffee grounds.

Rocket made a sharp, high sound, before clenching his jaw further. Bucky didn’t exactly jump at the noise, but his hand shook as he poured a pot of water into the coffee machine.

“Fuck,” Tony whispered. “Okay, second node. Which doesn’t make any goddamn sense but-- how long have you been clenching your jaw?”

“ _idk y?_ ”

“Because I think you tripped the system into an override. Did you have any pain before this lockdown?”

“ _Not really?_ ”

Tony sighed, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Not really or no, Rocket? This is important.”

Whatever Rocket tried to say was lost, his hands moving too quickly, shaking too much, but the anger on his face was understandable enough.

“Okay okay, jeez. Fuck, Buck, where are we on the coffee?”

“Um? Soon?” Bucky was just sort of staring at the machine. He’d put everything in and hit the right button but wasn’t making any noise? The coffee was filling the pot, but slow and silent. The machine in Bucky’s kitchen basically screamed as it heated the water and sifted through the grounds. Was this one working?

“Whatever.” Tony hadn’t even looked at him, digging through his tools. “Rocket, I’ll be honest with you, I have no idea how much this is going to hurt.”

“ _It’s fine._ ”

“It’s not fine, Rocket.” Bucky said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. Tony finally lifted his head from his tools, carrying a larger forceps and what looked like a high-tech knife. His eyebrows were knit together, scowling so intensely it would have been funny in any other moment.

“Is that what he said? Fuck you, Rocket.”

There was another flurry of signs and Bucky missed almost all of them, but Tony must have caught something. “No, this isn’t like last time! Last time I had to stop twice because you tapped out.” They were practically nose to nose now. Even though Tony wasn’t looking, Rocket was still fingerspelling every insult he knew. “I’m not a fucking doctor yet, Rocket, and I can’t take this system offline. This is going to hurt! How are you going to tell me to stop if you can’t talk, Rocket? Did you fucking think about that!?”

Rocket flinched back and only then did Tony realize he was shouting. “Oh shit,” he dropped back to a whisper. Rocket’s jaw seemed to twitch, then his shoulders.

“ _I’m already hurt. Fix it._ ”

“Rocket, I’m--”

“ _Apologize later. Fix now._ ”

“Okay.” Tony’s voice had picked up the same thinness Bucky’s had. He took a step back from Rocket, laid the forcep and the knife on the table and dug around his toolbox again. A circuit welder joined the items on the table, along with several strips of various metals. Tony closed the box, a blue screwdriver in his hand that didn’t go on the table. He pressed it into Rocket’s palm and suddenly they were nose to nose again.

“Drop this and Bucky and I are taking you to the hospital, okay?”

Rocket’s eyes narrows and, despite it already painful to look at, he managed to clench his jaw further.

“And fucking hell, stop doing that. You’re making it worse.” Tony moved around, standing behind Rocket completely now. Rocket let his head drop forward, but his grip on the screwdriver stayed firm. His thumb ran over the handle, feeling the edges of an engraving.

Tony placed the flat of his palm on the third spine node, steadying. “Take a deep breath, then I’m going to open the plating.”

Bucky wondered if maybe the coffee maker was making sound, but he couldn’t hear it. Because after Rocket took in as much air as his lungs could take, it was like Bucky stopped hearing anything at all. He watched the coffee fill, found a mug in one of the cabinets, and placed in near Tony’s tools. Then he just… stood there? Stood at the other end of the kitchen counter and Rocket stared at him. Stared like he understood, like this was okay, like what was happening now with whatever metallic noises Bucky couldn’t hear were just the same as Rocket half carrying Bucky to this very same place a few weeks ago.

Something popped and all the sound rushed back in.

“Fuck!” Rocket shouted. His arms reached forward, pounding a fist filled with the screwdriver on the kitchen counter. “Stark, you fucking genius! I--”

“Shut! Up!” Tony whispered. His eyes were wide and frantic but his hands were still occupied with Rocket’s spine. “Holy fuck, I immediately regret fixing you.” There was the sound of metal against metal, a soft but horrible scraping, and then the smell of burning. “Don’t touch it. Any more pain?”

“No, no, I’m,” Rocket suddenly scrambled to breathe, “oh my god.”

“Yeah. That was fucked.” Tony wasn’t sure when he’d finished his coffee, but the mug was down to it’s last cold sip.

“One night.” Rocket was shuddering when Tony turned back to look at him. “I want to sleep through one night. Is that too much to ask?”

“Stop clenching your jaw.”

“Fuck,” Rocket stretched out his jaw. He placed the screwdriver on the table and rubbed at his face. “This is bullshit.”

“Yeah, a little. What happened?” Tony picked up the now empty coffee cup, ignoring how his hands shook, and crossed to get a refill. Bucky seemed to move in time with him, circling around the other side of the counter to take the barstool next to Rocket.

Rocket opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He tried again, but still nothing.

“I get nightmares a lot,” Bucky started suddenly. HIs voice was flat and he stared intently at the grains of the granite counter. “Stuff with my arm, random stuff that doesn’t make sense as soon as I wake up but. But just before I wake up it’s like. Like falling? And drowning and screaming all at once, and then I wake up and the only thing left is screaming.”

The kitchen was silent, save for the sound of coffee filling Tony’s mug. “Wow, I can’t believe no one told me MCR got back together? T, how’d you get Gerard Way into your house?” Rocket’s laughter was rough around the edges, but it was still good to hear around his words.

The laughter cut short at the sound of ceramic shattering. Bucky nearly jumped out of his seat before leaning over the counter and looking at Tony, who seemed frozen except for his shaking hands. He finally looked away from the broken pieces on the ground, wide eyes meeting Bucky’s before turning to Rocket. He was still staring at the ruined coffee cup, at the steaming liquid seeping into the grout of the kitchen floor, but his eyes were unfocused.

“Rocket,” Tony’s voice was shaking, it seemed like the tremors had spread to his entire body. “Don’t clench your jaw.”

Rocket didn’t move, but he made a small noise and stuck his tongue out between his teeth; either he’d bite himself bloody or he wouldn’t clench his jaw. Tony seemed to jitter into motion, knocking over the paper towel holder as he grabbed a wad to wipe up the spilled coffee.

Bucky heard footsteps suddenly, too close to make sense without having been heard further away. Jarvis was behind him, evening robe done up just like it was the last time they were here, like Jarvis’s wardrobe was still trapped in the 1940s. He moved his hand, slowly, hovering over Bucky’s shoulder and waiting. Bucky narrowed his eyes, confused, but nodded and Jarvis let his hand put a gentle, soothing pressure just above the plating of the metal arm.

“I heard something break,” he whispered and Tony dropped the pieces of mug he’d gathered, stuttering through a string of curses. Jarvis gave Bucky’s shoulder one last soft squeeze before letting go and crossing the kitchen and kneeling down with Tony. “Anthony, stop. Let me get this. Go sit at the counter.”

Despite how he was still shaking, Tony managed to give an annoyed huff. “I broke it, I should fix it.” Even as he protested, he stood.

“Sit,” Jarvis repeated.

Tony sat next to Rocket, staring at Jarvis for a moment before tearing his gaze away. Rocket was still looking forward. “Rocket? Buddy, I’m going to check your second node plate, okay? Make sure I didn’t freak you out too much.”

He tried to steady his hand, but his fingers shuddered against the metal as he pressed into the plate. “No pain?”

Rocket visibly took a breath, exhaling and sprawling forward on the counter. “No pain. I’m good.”

“Cool. You good, Buck?”

Bucky nodded.

“Great.” Tony mirrored Rocket, slouching forward.

“It’s much too late for you to have been having coffee, Anthony,” Jarvis was on his feet again, tossing the remains of the broke mug into the trash.

“I was working.”

“Hm.” The hum was flat, almost harsh, but Jarvis looked over the three of them with a soft gaze, focus landing on Tony. “And now you’re done work, right? Because everyone’s okay?” Tony nodded and that seemed to be enough for Jarvis. “Good. James, I saw your car out front. Let your mother know you’ll be spending the night here.”

Bucky nodded, pulling out his phone. By the time he looked up, there was a mug of hot chocolate in front of him.

“You boys still have school tomorrow, so I expect the three of you to get to bed promptly. Anthony will show you the guest rooms.”

Tony gave a small smile, dragging his own mug closer with his prosthetic. His arms were still shaking, but the metal had a sturdier grip, even if Howard didn’t think so. “Jay, some of us kind of had a rough night so I don’t know if sleep is gonna be--” A soft snore cut through the soft space of the kitchen. Rocket’s mug was already empty and his head was on Bucky’s shoulder, already asleep.

“This is good cocoa, Mr. Jarvis. Thanks.” Bucky grinned. His words were still flat, a little unnerving with the smile, but Jarvis just smiled back before dimming the lights in the kitchen on his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, again, this series is marked as 'complete' because it technically is. Each chapter can act as its own conclusion.
> 
> But! I'll probably write one more. Next chapter will focus on Tony. "but Mags!" you may say, "all these chapters also focus on Tony!" I know. He's my favorite. This isn't surprising. 
> 
> When this chapter will come out? Hopefully sooner than three months from now, but honestly, I'm not sure. Maybe sometime in December? 
> 
> Thank you all for your love and support through the long delays, and please feel free to talk at me on magpiewords . tumblr . com for whatever you wanna talk about! <3

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah, this is a stand alone for now, but i might add two more chapters focusing on the other boys' situations. Let me know what you think!
> 
> shout at me on [tumbr](https://magpiewords.tumblr.com/)!


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